


To The Victor Go The Spoils

by 221BJen (jcoz1701)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Past Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5198957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcoz1701/pseuds/221BJen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this in a really, really short period of time for the lovely Callie4180's birthday! Thank you EnduringChill for the lightning fast beta.</p><p>I hope it doesn't suck :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	To The Victor Go The Spoils

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callie4180](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie4180/gifts).



> I wrote this in a really, really short period of time for the lovely Callie4180's birthday! Thank you EnduringChill for the lightning fast beta.
> 
> I hope it doesn't suck :)

“Have I ever told you about Victor Trevor?”

John looked up at where Sherlock sat at the table, the glow of his laptop screen throwing the angles of his face into sharp relief. He’d been back at Baker Street for a month and he still wasn’t used to seeing Sherlock like this again, relaxed and at home. He was so lovely it made John’s chest ache. He cleared his throat, realizing that Sherlock was waiting on a response. “Um, no, I don’t think so. Who is that? A client?”

Sherlock shook his head and looked back down at the screen. “I knew him in university. He was my friend.” He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment before his gaze sharpened on John again. “He was the only one.”

John shoved the instant surge of hot jealousy down, desperate for it not to read on his face. Who was he to be jealous of someone that Sherlock knew years ago? It’s not like he was still around. “Oh, really?” The questioning look that Sherlock gave him proved that his attempt to hide his reaction had failed somewhat but John soldiered on. “Were you close?”

“You could say that.”

Sherlock was looking back down at the computer screen but John could see the pink staining his cheeks at the admission. What the hell did _that_ mean?

“Were you-” John waved his hand vaguely and hoped that Sherlock would pick up on what he was trying to ask. He was fascinated by the insight into his friend’s past but the jealousy came roaring back with a vengeance. He was very glad that Sherlock wasn’t looking at him because he wasn’t quite sure what his face was doing.

“What are you trying to ask, John?” Sherlock looked at him then. “Oh. I see. You want to know if I was sexually involved with Victor.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course I was. Honestly, you put too much credence into what my brother thinks he knows.”

_ Of course I was. _

John had years of practice to keep him from seeing Sherlock in that light, but their time spent apart had made him rusty. He hadn’t been sure if he was a virgin or just not interested in sex at all, but for him to admit this so casually caused a rush of images to run through John’s head. He stood and walked toward the kitchen. “Go on. I’m still listening. Tea?”

He missed it completely when Sherlock muttered “Interesting” and then raised his voice slightly. “Yes to tea. As I was saying, Victor and I had a mutually satisfying relationship but we fell out of touch after his father ran into some trouble.” At the words _mutually satisfying_ , Sherlock heard a rattle of china and frowned. He hadn’t realized that hearing about Victor would bother John this much. Surely he had realized that Sherlock preferred men, hadn’t he? They had never explicitly talked about it but he knew John would never disapprove of the fact. He needed more data. “John?”

John walked back into the sitting room and deposited a mug of tea onto the desk next to Sherlock’s laptop before taking his seat again. “What kind of trouble did his father have?” He was determined to see this through, no matter what. It was so rare that Sherlock spoke about his past he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to learn more because of simple jealousy.

“Oh, the usual. False identities, theft. It finally caught up with him and the last I heard he’d died of a heart attack. It was just a few years ago.” Sherlock sipped his tea and watched John’s reaction. John just blinked a few times before setting his mug on the side table.

“So you’ve kept tabs on Victor?” John wasn’t sure what to do with this information. He didn’t like the idea of Sherlock having an ex- _whatever_ much less one that he actually made an effort to keep track of.

Sherlock looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Mycroft told me. Mr. Trevor was involved in some government contracts. Victor works in the same business.” He took another sip from his mug. “His business is actually why he’s in town right now.”

“In town?” John hated the way his voice cracked a bit at the end and from the way Sherlock was looking at him, he certainly hadn’t missed it. He picked up his tea and took too big a swig, almost choking in the process.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock’s concern was too much. John needed to get away before he did something to really embarrass himself.

“Fine.” John cleared his throat and coughed. “I’m fine.” He stood abruptly and carried his mug to the kitchen and dumped it out. “I think I’m going to go to the shops. Need anything?”

Sherlock followed him into the kitchen, still looking at him curiously. “No. Are you sure you’re alright?”

John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. I was going to pick up something for supper, are you eating tonight?”

“Um, well.” Sherlock looked almost guilty and John’s eyes widened in alarm. “Victor asked me to meet him for dinner tonight.”

John’s stomach dropped. “Oh. Well. Good. That’s good.” He walked on autopilot to the coat hook and retrieved his jacket. “I’m off out. I’ll see you before you leave?” He didn’t wait to hear Sherlock’s answer before clattering down the stairs and out into the chilly air.

\--

John hadn’t gone to the shops at all. He found himself walking around the park in a state of shock. Sherlock had a date. A *date. He had to sit down. A nearby bench served as his port in the storm of emotion that had whipped through him.

When he had moved back to Baker Street after the whole mess with Mary and the Moriarty problem, he had expected things to change between him and Sherlock. He had hoped it would. There had been a charge between them that hadn’t been there since he had moved in the first time and he thought it meant that Sherlock felt the same way. He hadn’t been sure that Sherlock felt things like that at all but he had evidently been mistaken all these years.

Victor Trevor.

He pulled out his mobile and typed in the name with unsteady hands. Several links popped up and John chose one that had an image attached to it. Shit. Of course. Victor Trevor was bloody gorgeous.

He closed his eyes and he could see it now. This was someone more on Sherlock’s level. They would look beautiful together. At least Victor didn’t live in London. That way if he and Sherlock continued dating John might not have to move out. He sighed and opened his eyes, blinking slowly. He was being ridiculous.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if Sherlock would invite Victor to the flat and how it would feel to see him there in their home. John wouldn’t be able to stand it. He glanced and the time and decided to head back. Sherlock would be leaving soon.

\--

John could hear the water running when he arrived back at the flat. Sherlock was still getting ready then. He took off his jacket and hung it back on the hook, walking over to sit heavily in his chair. Why was he so worried about this? Sherlock probably didn't even _realize_ it was a date.

A few minutes later, Sherlock strode into the sitting room buttoning his jacket. John's face fell. He knew it was a date. Sherlock had his sharpest suit on over the steel blue shirt that made his eyes look crystalline.

“How do I look?” Sherlock held out his arms and turned slowly. “Fit for public consumption?”

“Yeah. You look great.” John tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice and failed miserably. He gave Sherlock a shaky smile and picked up the book next to his chair, pretending to read.

Sherlock dropped his arms. “John, if you’re not feeling well, I can always-”

“No. Go and have fun.” John felt like a vise was squeezing his heart as he said the words. “I’ll be fine.”

Sherlock furrowed his brow in confusion. “If you’re sure…”

“I am. Go on.” John turned a page in his book.

Sherlock plucked his coat off the hook and shrugged it on. “I’ll text if I’m going to be late or if…” He trailed off. John turned to look at him as he tried to work out what he was saying. “Nevermind. I’ll text later if needed. Who knows?”

This was agony. John knew exactly what he was saying. He would text if he was going to be late or if _he wasn’t coming home at all_. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Sherlock, wait.” John put the book down and stood, not exactly sure what he was doing. He just knew he couldn’t let Sherlock go out that door without letting him know.

Sherlock turned back to face him a question on his face. “Yes?”

“Don’t go.” John winced. He sounded so pathetic.

“I told you I can stay if you’re not-”

“No!” John fidgeted under the piercing gaze. “That’s not what I meant.”

Sherlock’s voice was low and gentle. “Then what did you mean, John?”

“I mean-” John took a deep breath. Now or never. “I mean-” He walked over to Sherlock and, putting one hand on a shoulder to steady himself, leaned up and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, no fireworks or angels singing, but it shot a thrill through John’s body at the contact. Until he realized that Sherlock had frozen in place and wasn’t moving.

John drew back, ready to deal with the rejection that he dreaded, when Sherlock grasped a handful of his shirt and pulled him back in for a searing kiss. No innocent thing, this kiss. It was full of heat and want and John held on for dear life. By the time Sherlock pulled away, they were both breathing hard and John thought he was going to pass out from the rush of blood heading south.

Sherlock rested his forehead against John’s and grinned. “Finally.” He leaned forward and brushed their noses together, in a strangely sweet gesture. “I wondered if this would do it.”

John stepped back and looked at him. “What?”

“Sorry. No, don’t look like that.” Sherlock drew him in close, winding his arms around John’s shoulders. “I was confused by your reaction when I told you about Victor until I finally realized what it was.” He pulled back just enough to look in John’s eyes. “You were jealous.”

John huffed but didn’t pull away. “Yeah. I was a bit.”

Sherlock grinned at him. “So, I thought if I accepted Victor’s invitation it would force you to act.” He kissed John on the forehead. “I’m glad you did.”

John couldn’t help but laugh. “You manipulative bastard. What would have happened if you had been wrong? What if I hadn’t done anything?”

Sherlock placed a small kiss on John’s jaw before moving to lip at his ear lobe. “I’m never wrong.” Sherlock’s voice rumbled against John’s chest and he shivered.

“Now what?” John’s voice caught as Sherlock bit down gently on his earlobe.

“Now,” Sherlock whispered. “Now we decide what to do with the rest of our night.”

John claimed those lips again, hands wandering under Sherlock’s coat and down his back until he finally was able to feel how fantastic Sherlock’s arse really was. He drew back again and held out a hand to Sherlock who took it with a raised eyebrow. He tilted his head towards Sherlock’s bedroom and found himself being pulled along instead of leading, as per usual. He grinned as he was tugged along and thought triumphantly, _Victor Trevor can suck it._


End file.
